When I Told My Lover Everything, My Wife Smiled

I had been unable to sleep for days. Guilt has a habit of settling in at the most uncomfortable moments: at three in the morning, when the ceiling is the only thing in front of you and your thoughts refuse to stop going in circles.

What I was doing to Laura wasn’t fair. We had been seeing each other for months without her knowing that Cristina, my wife, had been aware of everything from the very beginning. So one Tuesday morning I picked up the phone and called her.

—I need to tell you something —I said—. Something that’s driving me crazy.

We arranged to meet in the park parking lot, near the neighborhood where she worked. A neutral place, without witnesses. Cristina wished me luck before I left.

I got there first. I settled into the back seat of my car, with the tinted windows creating that kind of private cabin we knew so well. When I saw Laura appear among the cars, my stomach lurched. She walked with that confidence of hers, with that stride she never lost even when she didn’t know where she was going.

She opened the door and sat beside me. The first thing she did was lean over to kiss me.

I stopped her with one hand on her shoulder.

—Wait. First I have to tell you something important.

She went still, her hand still resting on my thigh, looking at me.

—My wife knows everything —I finally said—. She’s known from the beginning. And she doesn’t mind.

The silence that followed was the kind that hurts. Laura stared at me without blinking, as if she were processing each syllable separately. Five seconds passed. Ten. Fifteen. Her gaze didn’t move.

—Were you the one who told her? —she asked in a very low voice.

—Yes.

She called me a son of a bitch. She opened the car door and left without looking back.

I watched her walk away among the parked cars and did nothing to stop her. I had no argument left to add. I had said what I needed to say, and she had reacted exactly as I deserved.

***

When I got home and told Cristina everything, she merely said:

—Don’t worry. She’ll get over it.

And she was right. Two days later, when she came back from the gym, she announced that she had had a conversation with Laura. She didn’t go into details or explain what they had said to each other. She only told me:

—I’ve invited her to lunch on Saturday. The three of us need to talk.

No matter how much I tried to get something out of her, there was no way. Cristina knows how to keep a secret when she wants to.

Saturday arrived with the slowness of days one waits for with too much tension. I took care of preparing the food, setting the table, choosing the music. Cristina watched me from the sofa with a smile.

—You’re a nervous wreck —she said.

—A little.

—Very.

When the doorbell rang, my hands were trembling slightly. I went to open the door, and there was Laura. Radiant, in a black strappy dress with a generous neckline, dark stockings, and her usual high heels. She had let her brown hair loose over her shoulders and wore a thin scarf around her neck. Even Cristina complimented her when she came in. She had brought us a dessert she’d made herself.

Laura has the kind of presence that fills any room. Tall, with green eyes that see everything. She was thirty-five years old and had the sort of body that seemed designed to destabilize anyone standing in front of her. After I showed her around the apartment, we sat down to eat.

Cristina hadn’t held back either: a fitted light-colored blouse without a bra, revealing every curve, and black leggings that outlined her figure. It was difficult to decide where to look.

During the meal, the conversation gradually drifted toward what all three of us knew we had to discuss sooner or later. Laura asked Cristina if she was bisexual. Cristina answered with the same naturalness she used when talking about everything:

—I’m not guided by a person’s sex. I like people, certain traits, a certain energy. It’s hard to explain in words, but it’s more a feeling than a category.

Laura nodded. She listened attentively, without judgment. Cristina told her about our relationship, about the agreements we had built over time, about other experiences we had shared. I thought Laura would be scandalized. Instead, she seemed to understand. More than that: there was something in her gaze that resembled admiration and, perhaps, envy.

—My husband and I haven’t fucked in more than a year —she said at one point—. I sleep with my panties wet and finger myself in the bathroom so I don’t go crazy.

There was no need to clarify anything further.

I explained to Laura how hard it had been not to tell her the truth from the beginning. That I was very attracted to her. That I had been afraid of losing her friendship if she knew. That I had handled it badly from the start. She listened without interrupting.

—At first I hated you —she said when I finished—. But Cristina made me see it differently.

As the afternoon progressed, the atmosphere in the living room began to change temperature. The wine had done its work. At some point, Cristina gave me that look I knew well after so many years together, the one that meant she was going to give us some space.

She stood up, announced that she was going out to run a few errands and would be gone for a couple of hours. She kissed me on the lips, winked at Laura, and closed the door.

***

The living room fell silent. Only the faint background music filled the space.

Laura looked at me. She patted the cushion beside her.

—Come here.

I sat down. She climbed onto me astride without saying anything else, and we began kissing open-mouthed, biting each other’s lips, our tongues thrust deep. I could feel her hot pussy rubbing against the bulge in my trousers, marking every movement of her hips. Her hands unbuttoned my shirt one button at a time and let it fall to the floor. I lowered the straps of her dress and discovered a black, semi-transparent bra with delicate lace that barely contained her tits. I unfastened it and tore it off her. They were firm and round, with dark nipples hard as stones.

—Suck them —she asked in a hoarse whisper, pushing one against my mouth.

I did as she asked. I filled my mouth with one, sucked hard, and bit it slowly until she moaned and dug her nails into the back of my neck. I moved to the other, ran my tongue around the areola, and sucked it until I heard her release a broken gasp. Her hips rubbed faster and faster against my cock, which was already pressing painfully against my zipper.

I moved her away just enough to look at her.

There was something different about her that afternoon. Without the fear of sharing the space, without the limits we had always had, without the urgency of our secret meetings. She moaned without holding back, without lowering her voice, without glancing toward the door. It was the first time I had had all of her.

She stood for a moment. Her dress fell to the floor. She stood still in front of me, wearing a black thong soaked through, a dark stain marking exactly where her wetness was escaping. She slipped her fingers beneath the elastic, ran them between the lips of her pussy, and held them up to me, glistening.

—Look what you do to me —she said, then brought them to her mouth and sucked them one by one while staring straight at me.

Then she knelt between my legs.

She took off my shoes, my socks. She carefully unbuttoned my trousers, pulled down my underwear, and my cock sprang upward, hard and throbbing. Laura stared at it for a second with the smile I knew so well, then licked her lips.

—I love your cock —she said—. You have no idea how much I’ve missed it.

She took it in one hand at the base and ran her tongue from underneath all the way to the tip, slowly, leaving a trail of hot saliva. She circled the head with her tongue, played with the frenulum, and then took the tip into her mouth, sucking hard. I threw my head back and let out a moan I couldn’t hold in.

—Take all of it —I asked.

And she did. She swallowed it inch by inch, her eyes fixed on mine, until I felt it strike the back of her throat. She stayed there for a few seconds, swallowing around it, tears appearing in her eyes. Then she began to move: pulling my cock all the way out, coating it with her tongue, and taking it back in to the hilt. Again and again, faster each time, louder each time, sucking and drooling without the slightest shame.

With her free hand she grabbed my balls, took them into her mouth one after the other, and sucked them slowly while masturbating me with the other hand. Then she moved back up, kept sucking my cock, and with two wet fingers squeezed just behind my balls, at my perineum, with a pressure that made me see stars.

Her hands worked at the same time as her mouth, with a coordination that couldn’t be faked. She pulled me out, spit on me, and took me back in. She swallowed me to the hilt and stayed there, gulping, her nose pressed against my belly. I felt my orgasm rising from my balls and warned her.

—I’m going to come, Laura.

—In my mouth —she said without taking me out—. All of it in my mouth.

She sucked me faster, her hand matching the rhythm, and when I came I exploded inside her mouth with a force that made my legs tremble. She didn’t pull away a centimeter. She closed her lips around the tip and swallowed, spurt after spurt, her throat working around the head. When I was finished, she kept sucking slowly to draw out the last drop. She only pulled away when nothing more came out. A thread of semen hung from the corner of her mouth. She wiped it away with her finger and took it to her tongue.

—A lot. And you?

—The best dessert I’ve had in years.

***

I stood up. I helped her sit where I had been and knelt in front of her. I slowly removed her thong, soaked and heavy with all her juices. Then her shoes, then her stockings, kissing her legs from the knee upward without any hurry, biting the insides of her thighs until I drew a nervous moan from her.

I spread her legs wide and spent a few seconds looking at her pussy. She was shaved, her lips swollen and glistening, her swollen clitoris showing between the folds. A thread of wetness ran down to her asshole. I opened it with two fingers, leaving her completely exposed.

—You’re dripping —I told her.

—Eat me —she replied—. Eat my pussy already.

I dove in completely. I ran my tongue all the way from bottom to top, gathering all that hot wetness, finishing with a tug on her clitoris that made her jump. I did it again, more slowly, savoring her. Then I focused on her clitoris: first with the tip of my tongue, making gentle circles, then with my whole mouth, sucking it, tugging at it, releasing it, attacking it again with my tongue flat and firm.

Laura’s head was thrown back and her hands were buried in my hair, guiding me, pushing me against her. I slipped in one finger slowly and felt her close around it, squeezing me. I added another. I began moving them inside her rhythmically, searching for that rough spot I knew drove her crazy. When I found it, she let out a hoarse cry.

—There, there, don’t stop.

My fingers pounded that spot while my mouth never left her clitoris alone. I sucked, licked, nibbled. Her pussy began dripping harder, a thick flow covering my face and running down my chin. I felt her inner walls squeezing around my fingers, contracting in spasms.

—I’m coming —she gasped—. I’m coming, don’t stop…

I increased the pace. Her thighs closed around my head and her feet searched for purchase in the air. Her body decided for her: a tremor that began in her feet and reached the back of her neck, a long cry, and a hot ejaculation that soaked my mouth and chin. I kept licking her slowly while she trembled and pushed me away with her hands, too sensitive to take any more.

It took her a couple of minutes to come back to herself.

When she looked at me, she smiled. Her eyes were shining.

—Come on —she said, glancing toward the hallway.

***

Naked and hand in hand, we reached the bedroom.

Laura took control from the start. She made me sit on the edge of the bed and knelt between my legs again. She took hold of me, still soft from my previous orgasm, and put me in her mouth. She sucked slowly, patiently, giving me time. She pulled me out, ran her tongue over the frenulum, and took me back in. Within a few minutes, she had me hard and throbbing between her lips again.

She climbed on top of me. She held on to my shoulders. With her other hand she guided my cock to the entrance of her pussy and slowly lowered herself onto it, inch by inch, with the concentration of someone who knows exactly what she wants. I felt her descend hot and tight until her ass rested against my thighs.

—You make me feel so full —she murmured.

She stayed still for a second, letting herself feel it. She looked at me. She kissed me with tongue, slowly, while contracting her inner walls around my cock.

And she began to move.

At first slowly, rising and falling with her hips, searching for the angle. Then she began rocking forward and back, rubbing her clitoris against my pubic bone. Then faster, firmer, bouncing on top of me with her tits jiggling in front of my face. I grabbed one and put it in my mouth, sucking it while she rode me.

—Fuck me hard —she gasped—. Break my pussy, please.

My hands squeezed her hips to help her with each movement, guiding her, pushing her against me. I lifted her and let her drop, fucking her from below with hard thrusts that drew a moan from her with every impact. Her tits bounced wildly. The bed creaked. The whole room smelled of sex.

I felt her body beginning to tense again. She clung to my shoulders, tightened her thighs around my hips, and before either of us could anticipate it, her second orgasm arrived. She stayed impaled, buried to the hilt, with her arms around my neck and her face hidden against my shoulder, biting me while her pussy clenched around my cock in waves.

—You make me feel so good —she murmured in my ear, still trembling—. You have no idea how much I needed this.

I turned her without her coming off me. I laid her on her back on the bed and lifted her legs, placing them over my shoulders. My cock hadn’t slipped out. I began thrusting from that angle, going deep, touching the back with every push. She shook her head against the pillow, eyes closed, mouth open.

—More —she begged—. Harder, don’t stop, put it all the way in.

Her hands searched for something to hold on to: the sheet, my arm, the headboard. I folded her legs even farther against her chest, opening her completely. I could see perfectly how my cock went in and out, shiny and drenched, foam gathering at the base each time it emerged. I found a brutal rhythm, fucking her with all my strength, the sound of skin striking skin filling the room.

—Look at it going in —I told her—. Look at me putting all of it inside you.

She lowered her gaze and bit her lip. She spat on the joining of our bodies, though there was more than enough wetness, and began rubbing her clitoris with her hand in time with my thrusts. I continued until her body began convulsing for the third time and her nails scored lines across my back. She screamed my name. Her pussy contracted in violent spasms around my cock.

***

Before she had fully recovered, I turned her over and put her on all fours.

She settled with her ass raised and her head resting sideways on the pillow, panting and waiting. I grabbed her hips and thrust into her again in one motion, all the way to the hilt. Laura let out a long moan with her mouth against the sheet.

I continued from that angle, at a rhythm that drew a moan from her with every movement. I watched her pert ass, that small, tight asshole left exposed with every thrust, and I couldn’t contain myself. I sucked my thumb and began exploring that other hole slowly, first circling it, then pressing gently.

Laura tensed for a second.

—That place is a virgin —she said between gasps, looking back over her shoulder—. Be careful.

—Never?

—Never. My husband never asked me, and I didn’t want to with anyone else.

I took it slowly, without rushing. I pulled my cock out of her pussy, coated it in her own wetness, and put it back in. With my free hand, I used the juices she herself was producing to lubricate that other hole slowly, wetting it well with two fingers. I pushed the tip of my thumb in. There was resistance at first, then a gradual adjustment, then something different in her moans: it was no longer only pleasure, but discovery as well.

I asked her if she wanted me to continue. She said yes.

—Slowly —she added—. And don’t stop the other thing.

I pulled my cock from her pussy, licked it thoroughly, and spat on it several times to make it slippery. I also spat on her ass, spreading it with the tip of my cock, pressing very gently against her asshole. I was extremely careful. More careful than I had ever been with anyone in that territory.

—Relax —I told her—. Open.

I pushed slowly. The head went in first, meeting that initial resistance before giving way all at once. Laura let out a hoarse moan, biting her lip and gripping the sheet in her fists.

—Stop —she said—. One second, stop.

I stayed still, not moving, with only the tip inside. I ran my hand over her back and her ass, calming her. After a while she asked me to continue. I pushed in another centimeter. Then another. Without hurrying. She breathed deeply, adjusting. I brought her hand to her clitoris so she could touch herself and not lose her arousal.

When I was all the way in, my balls pressed against her pussy, I stayed still for a few moments so her body could find the rhythm.

Then I began moving very slowly.

The sensation was different from anything else: tighter, hotter, each movement drawing a different kind of pleasure from me. It took Laura a little while to find her place in it, but she did. Her moans changed register: first with a note of effort, then with something that increasingly resembled a different pleasure, deeper and more internal.

—Keep going —she gasped—. Keep doing that, more, a little faster.

I began to accelerate. She rubbed her clitoris with two fingers, faster and faster, moaning louder and louder. I grabbed one cheek of her ass with each hand and spread her open, watching my cock enter and leave that virgin place that was now mine. The sight drove me crazy.

—Don’t stop —she told me—. Don’t stop now.

—I’m going to fill your ass, Laura.

—Yes, inside, come inside me.

The rhythm increased until we both lost control at the same time. Her body contracted in a series of spasms neither of us anticipated, a different orgasm, longer and deeper, leaving her screaming into the pillow while her ass clenched in spasms around my cock. I reached the limit a few seconds later, with an intensity that left me breathless and thoughtless for a long moment. I emptied myself inside her in spurts that I felt rise from my balls and discharge deep inside her, pushing out every last drop.

When I slowly pulled my cock out, a white thread slid down the inside of her thighs.

We stayed still, leaning against each other, while everything returned to calm and our breathing regained its normal rhythm.

—Yours alone —she said softly—. It was yours alone.

***

We went to the bathroom together. Laura tied her hair up so it wouldn’t get wet. We showered slowly, without urgency, beneath the hot water, our hands still exploring what they had just learned. We soaped each other, cleaned ourselves, and looked at each other beneath the spray without anything needing to be said.

We dried off. We went out into the hallway. We gathered the clothes we had left scattered between the living room and bedroom.

Cristina was sitting on the sofa, waiting for us.

When she saw us come in, she smiled.

—Everything okay? —she asked Laura.

Laura sat on the rug beside her, with the natural ease of someone who had been in a place for years. They began talking as if nothing unusual had happened. I stood there for a moment, watching them, not quite sure how I fit into that picture.

I offered to bring them something to drink. They accepted. I went back to the kitchen and left them to talk. From there I could hear them perfectly: Laura was telling Cristina how she had felt, with an honesty that surprised me. She told her about the ass. She told her how she had come three times. Cristina listened, asked questions, and laughed at exactly the right moments. Later she would confess that when she saw Laura sitting beside her, she hadn’t been able to stop looking at her. And that when Laura described what had happened in the bedroom, her own panties had become so soaked that she had had to slip her hand inside her leggings to touch her clitoris while Laura kept talking.

When I returned with the drinks, the two of them were together on the sofa. Laura had her legs crossed. Cristina had one hand resting on her knee, moving slowly up her thigh.

I set the glasses on the table and sat down opposite them.

No one said anything for a moment.

Cristina looked at me. Then she looked at Laura. Then she looked back at me.

—Shall we do this again next Saturday? —she asked.

Laura laughed. I did too. And Cristina raised her glass.